


Sansa is Gone. I am Alayne. Alayne Stone.

by doctordisco



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctordisco/pseuds/doctordisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No Time to Mourn the Dead. Black. Its Perfect Father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sansa is Gone. I am Alayne. Alayne Stone.

It had taken days to reach The Fingers, Petyr partly dreaded it but the only light that came of it was the fact that She was with him. On the day they landed, he made sure no one saw her. Draping her beauty with a dirty brown wool cloak and escorting her to his meager inheritance. Since becoming Master of Coin, Petyr hardly visited his home. This was the first since the Rebellion but he entrusted the small estate to a very select few, loyal servants of his. He had sent well enough coin to take care of the ruined Castle and now it was in a better shape then when he first remembered it. His ship docked at the singular wood extension that came out from under the rocks, and he felt a sense of relief to finally be off the water and back onto hard land. The weather there was harsh if not wet and damp when Petyr escorted Her and his others from his household up the long quiet stairway that led to the Castle above the ocean. Entering it to find the small grand entrance well furbished and cared for. Mistress Kella was already there to attend to them. “M’Lord.” She made a half curtsy, her black eyes landing on the hooded figure next to Petyr. “I wasn’t expecting another…”

“You will make room Kella. She is…” He paused, should he say it? Of course he should, he promised to keep Her safe, and safe he would keep her. “…this is my Daughter. Alayne, Lady Alayne Stone.” The words burned in his mouth, knowing that he would regret this for a very long time. But from the look of delight on Kella’s face, Petyr knew that it was going to be a problem.

“A daughter? Oh bless the gods, M’Lord. Come child. You must be so cold.” Kella said, escorting Her down the small corridor towards the rooms beyond. She turned momentarily and their eyes met, he nodded in reassurance before her figure disappeared into the darkness.

It was just as he remembered, cold, damp and despite the roaring fire in the corner— the cold seemed to seep into the newly placed stones surrounding the Castle. After changing into new robes, Petyr sought Her out. Kella was the only handmaiden that Petyr trusted with everything— trusted her with what was now considered his most prized possessions. And when he found his way to Her rooms, the sight he saw nearly caved in his chest. The sounds of water and soft laughter caught his ear, sweet sounds, sounds he never thought he’d hear again. His hand pushed the wood door slowly as his grey eyes soaked in the sight before him. There She was, dressed in a modest looking gown of grey and black velvet. Her head bent over a large pail that held black water, dye obviously. Her ocean blue eyes looked up at the notice of another presence in the room, meeting his almost instantly. Kella paid no mind, her small delicate hands working through the copper red hair and easily drenched the bright color with the dark dye that was her new hair color.

Water dripped down Her hair and into the pail, missing in some places, careful not to ruin her gown. Some streaks of black ran down her porcelain cheek now rising with a hue of blush. “Lord Baelish…” Her sweet voice said, as she remained still. Waiting as Kella finished and draped a thick towel behind her and capturing the long locks of now black hair into the cloth. Petyr didn’t answer nor corrected her. They had taken time to talk about this on the ship ride there but it was like it was all forgotten, he stepped forward and Kella finally looked at Petyr for the first time. She knew that look, and the one she was giving him. The feeling was mutual and she wasn’t about to get in the way of that. “Child…you must leave your hair in this for a while. I will return to attend to it once more alright?” She nodded, and bowed to both before disappearing. Leaving Petyr standing there staring at Her.

“Do you like it?” She asked, her hand going over her face as if she knew the black streaks over her skin were there. “Its so different. I feel…different.” The admittance was a true one, this Petyr knew, he walked a few strides and stood beside her, turning his head to gaze into the large mirror that dominated the room. Taking a moment to admire his own reflection he was taken aback by the beauty standing beside him there. Her long and lean figure gracefully filled the large space beside him as his eyes drank her in.

“Positively beautiful.” Was all Petyr managed to say but it did manage to conjure up another blush from Her face. She too was gazing into the mirror, unable to stop her own eyes from wondering over the figure before her. Her supposed Father. The Man that saved her from Kings Landing, from being accused for treason after the death of King Joffrey. He was indeed a true friend, she should’ve believed him from the start and now look at where they were? Running. Hiding. But it was with him. Her eyes shifted to look at him directly. “Thank you Lord Bae— Petyr.” She corrected herself. “I think its fitting.”

“Fitting?” He asked, still gazing into the mirror. The light of the fire illuminating the private chambers they were standing in.

“Fitting because I cannot properly mourn the death of my Mother….or my Brother, Uncle.” She turned her gaze back the mirror, “Ridding myself of the reminder of where I come from. I couldn’t wear my mourning black there, at Kings Landing and I can’t wear it here either. But this….” She reached up, pulling a dark strand of her hair from the ear. Turning her figure to stand in front of the mirror to examine it more carefully. “Its perfect.”

Of course its perfect, Petyr thought, his hard gaze now on her as she stared at the mirror. He half expected to feel that familiar pang of despair from the mention of Catelyn but it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Standing there. Beside Her. It was like something had changed, within him, or Her. The Gods were testing his resolve as an earthly man. And a man he was. Without a second thought he moved slowly to stand behind Her. She had always been a bit taller but he was still over her, his hands reached up and caressed her exposed shoulders, the gown she wore allowed for such freedom. Apart of him was surprised she didn’t jump back but then was he raised his gaze to meet hers in the mirror once more. She wasn’t the same woman from when he first departed her presence back at Kings Landing. She was different. And so was he. “My sweet, sweet Sansa…”

She let out breath, not pulling away from his touch but slightly leaning backwards to him. Her hand reached up and pulled the thick cloth holding her hair up. Allowing the still damp locks of now raven black hair to caress down against her shoulders, on his hands and staining the long sleeves he wore. He didn’t seem to care when her ice cold gaze met his once more in the mirror. “Sansa…is gone. I am Alayne, Alayne Stone.” As she spoke, for the first time shivers sent through Petyr’s body, feeling her backside pressed against his front made goose bumps crawl under his thick tunic. His right hand trailed over her shoulder and wrapped his fingers around her throat, his dark gaze shown over her shoulder as the wet black dye stained her grey gown. Neither of them cared as his other hand slipped around the side of her waist and pulled her against him.

“My Daughter…”


End file.
